


Freedom

by SilverWolf57



Series: Writing Prompts [11]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Addiction, Ocelot - Freeform, Science Fiction, capybara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 08:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19866649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWolf57/pseuds/SilverWolf57
Summary: What if you could send your consciousness into the web? What if a new type of war broke out, a social media war? What if this war's casualties were sentient beings different from humans? would you care?





	Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on this week's writing prompt. It somehow ended up being like this and I still can't understand why I decided to go for social media wars, but, I hope you like it. Writing prompt this week is: Write about a character with an addiction to something. It can't be drugs or alcohol. Bonus points if it's not sex. (there are no actual points)
> 
> Comments and critiques are accepted.

Everything was just the way I liked. The soft thrum of machine working in tandem. All of them perfectly distributed in a room way too small. Soft cyan light giving everything a ghostly yet refined quality. I sat on the only share in the room, well, I call it chair, but it was more of a red sphere, soft to the touch. Its fabric molding around my body the more weight I rested on it, cradling me in a comfortable embrace. Mild discomfort coming from all over my body, as tiny needles poured out of the fabric and pierced my skin. The prickling of electricity came next, making my muscles relax as the system integrated with my body. Excitement was running through my veins, anticipation gripping my heart. Just mere seconds later the skeletal metallic hands came down from the ceiling. Cameras and sensors their positions high in the air, standing watch over me. A red light blinked twice in one of them, before the grim green light shone on me. My mind barely registering the change before a flow of information invaded my consciousness. The rush the data gave me shoving out all thoughts of my stubby legs, my undersized breast and even the burned skin that marred my face. They all became superfluous to the virtual space that was opening before me.

The room morphed before my eyes, the small room growing wider and taller. Spartan decorations being replaced with elegant crystal seats, rubies and sapphires marking the road down to the throne I was sitting in. The old red surface of the chair replaced with the ivory and gold of my throne. My fingers traced the floral patterns on the arms rest, just a few of the dozens that covered the whole throne. All connected, all individual, all serving a purpose. It was orderly, measured, well thought. So different from the life I led in the other world. I shook my head, banishing the unpleasant thoughts away. This was my sanctuary, those dark clouds were not welcomed. My eyes glanced down the room, where carved columns appeared next, showing flocks of birds rising high into the ceiling. The moments the columns touched the ceiling, a burst of colors exploded from every column, taking over the whole surface. Red, whites, yellows and blues mixed and mingled to create a faithful recreation of the sky of Earth. Or at least, how I thought the sky would look like based on the data I had gathered.

The groaning of wood pierced the room, moments before large doors of oak opened at the far end of the hall. A squad of capybaras entered in the room with patient steps. Their small bodies clad in forest green robes that flowed with every move. A disinterested expression on their face that hid the gleaming in their eyes. Each one carrying a stacks of papers that reached the underside of their muzzles. The clicking of their claws accompanied them as they crossed the hall. They stopped ten paces before my throne as the only one without any papers stepped forward, and bend into a bow. White hairs decorated his brown fur, his hands clutching his staff for stability, the weight of years clear on his tired eyes.

"It is good to have you back my queen," he said with a soft melodious voice, "it's is my pleasure to report that there are many messages for you to check."

"It is good to hear that Coll, how does our kingdom fare?" I asked him with a gentle smile. He held his open paw to one of his disciples, who wasted no time to give him one of the papers. He cleared his throat politely, holding the paper high in the air for his eyes to see.

"Your last post on Artbook has had over two hundred comments and three times as many likes. Your humble servants have already sent replies to all your subjects." A pleased laugh echoed in the room, the warmth feeling of importance and assurance resting in my stomach. "Your chirper account had three chirps that were retweeted at least four hundred times each, they have become a trend among your friends."

I let the rush of success fill my body, enjoying the boost to my ego that those words brought me. But, it came to an end too soon. Leaving only a hunger in me, a desire for even bigger things, bigger returns. The old capybara waited patiently for my permission to continue. A quick flick of my wrist indicating my approval was enough for him to pick another paper from the stack.

"The posts on Kindomz has been growing in reactions steadily these past few hours, but it still hasn't broken last week's records. We expect it will reach a plateau in the next 12 hours, comparative analysis indicates there's a 67% chance of its success."

"What about the research I requested? Have you found ways to increase our followers?" The capybara averted his gaze, his sharp claws biting into the document in his hands. With a sound between a whine and a groan, he looked up again, fear and regret in his eyes. That was enough of an answer. "I think I asked a simple question Coll, it would be such a pity to have to replace such a loyal program."

"I-I understand my queen, my apologies. We sought out some options to increase your followers and we got an influx of one thousand seven hundred and six followers in the last couple of weeks."

"But?" I asked with clear irritation clouding my voice.

"We lost forty seven followers as well." His words hit me like a hammer, a part of me breaking. The taste of failure thick in my mouth, but above all there was disappointment. I had failed those followers, they had abandoned me. I couldn't afford to lose any more.

"Coll, for your sake, I hope you can make up for your losses. Now, was there anything else?" the capybara couldn't bear to look at me, his eyes firmly set on the ground.

"There are some messages from your fans, a few others from your friends."

"I expect a summary of all that. Now, leave me. And tell Laica to enter." I told him in a tone that broke no argument. The capybara bowed deeply, his hands gripping his staff in a desperate grip, and then he left without another sound. The capybaras had barely left the room when a squad of ocelots took their place. Clad in a futuristic military armor, its surface dark as night and a red and black visors, the ocelots looked like they had stepped from the latest DLC of Galaxy Battles. Their rifles held in their hands, they advanced forwards with rigid steps. All of them marching to a tune only they seemed to know.

One of them, the only one with a red stripe coursing their armor, stepped forward. She was bulkier than her subordinates, but also seemed to exude an air of danger. With a curt nod, she knelt before me. Her soldiers presenting their arms in respect. A few seconds passed in silence, before a flash of red coursed through their visors a dozen of screens materialized in front of me. One showed a simple yet elegant lounge, hundreds of paintings decorating its wall while a crowd of avatars browsed her art. Another looked into a lofty office, with hundreds of books filling the walls. A mountain of papers accumulating on top of a desk, while a line of avatars waited to be attended by the perfect copy of herself. A smile never leaving the face of her doppelganger. The left-most screen presented a bird's eye view of the corridor, where some of her most loyal fans and more than a few spies waited for an audience.

"Report, Laica." I ordered her. The intrusion countermeasure sparing me a single glance before her robotic voice broke the silence.

"Since your last login there has been three hundred and seventeen attempts to insert malicious software in your pages, all of those attempts have been thwarted. Two hundred fifty seven intrusions were detected and redirected to decoy areas. Ninety six art thefts have been reported, twice that number have been detected and been handled extra-officially."

"What do you mean extra-officially?"

"Your fans took measures of their own after an anonymous tips made them aware of the theft. In some cases, bricking of the offending device, smear campaigns and hacking have been confirmed."

"What about my enemies? How does the war fare?" The otherwise stoic ocelot showed a grimace, a look of pure disgust crossing her face.

"Using the virus you provided, we have infected and controlled Ladydiva193's intrusion countermeasures. A mission was carried out to destroy the main repositories. The mission was carried out successfully, but there were no survivors."

"And her followers?" I asked with an anxious tone, hoping the programs were smart enough to pounce upon that chance.

"Some have deflected to other artists, including you. But the majority have remained loyal."

"What are our losses?"

"Twenty six followers in common have unsubscribed from your networks." An uncomfortable silence followed, the ocelot like program averting her gaze in the most polite way she could. "It seems they found out about your attacks on the other artists. Reparations have been demanded and a hit-it campaign was started last night."

"Can we win Laica?"

"Not without losses my queen."

"But if we win?"

"You would get around twenty thousand new followers in all your networks if we're lucky. At least one thousand followers across all your platforms if we're not."

I pondered the numbers in my head, working out whether the cost of this media war was worth it. Many resources would have to be diverted from my art department, my pages would remain empty for the hours that it would take for the war to reach an end. It could be catastrophic, I may never recover from the loss. But the hunger in me spoke louder of the benefits. One thousand new followers at least, one thousand reactions, one thousand worshipers. More than enough reasons to keep on living, to fight, to connect. My mind was set.

"Do it."


End file.
